Tag Archives: Apostles

Well after Nicholas’s kind words yesterday, maybe I should share this. This is my traditional Easter Sunday post, although I edited it for today, it remains very much as it was.

That’s the importance of the day. Jesus the Christ is risen from the dead. This is the most important day for Christians.

Let’s speak a bit on the history. You may know that Easter is an Anglophone term for what nearly everybody else calls some form of Pasch. There’s a myth about that, which The Clerk of Oxford does a fine job of debunking.

How was Easter celebrated in Anglo-Saxon England? There’s a popular answer to that question, which goes like this: ‘the Anglo-Saxons worshipped a goddess called Eostre, who was associated with spring and fertility, and whose symbols were eggs and hares. Around this time of year they had a festival in her honour, which the Christians came over and stole to use for their own feast, and that’s why we now have Easter’.

Yeah, not so much, Eostre was mentioned in two sentences by St Bede, the rest is mostly 19th-century fabrication.

The women and the angel at the tomb, from the Benedictional of St Æthelwold(BL Additional 49598, f. 51v)

The reenactment of this scene – the women and the angel at the empty tomb – forms one of the best-known elements of the early medieval Easter liturgy, famous because it is often said to be one of the oldest examples of liturgical drama. To quote from Regularis Concordia, as translated in this excellent blogpost at For the Wynn:

When the third reading [of Nocturns] is being read, let four brothers clothe themselves, one of whom, clothed in white and as if about to do something else, should go in and secretly be at the burial place, with his hand holding a palm, and let him sit quietly. And while the third responsory is being sung, let the remaining three follow: all clothed with cloaks, carrying censers with incense in their hands, and with footsteps in the likeness of someone seeking something, let them come before the burial place. And let these things be done in imitation of the angel sitting on the tomb and of the women coming with spices, so that they might anoint the body of Jesus.

And when the one remaining has seen the three, wandering and seeking something, approach him, let him begin, with a moderate voice, to sing sweetly: ‘Whom are you seeking?’ When this has been sung to the end, let the three respond with one voice: ‘Jesus of Nazareth’. To whom he should say: ‘He is not here. He has risen, as he said before. Go, announce it, because he has risen from the dead.’ With this command, let those three turn around to the choir, saying, “Alleluia, the Lord has risen.’ When this has been said, let the one sitting turned back, as if calling them back, say this antiphon: ‘Come and see the place’.

Saying these things, let him rise and lift up the veil and show them the place devoid of the cross, but with the linens placed there which with the cross had been wrapped. When they have seen this, let them set down the censers which they were carrying in the same tomb, and let them take the linen and spread it out in front of the clergy, and, as if showing that the Lord has risen and is not wrapped in it, let them sing this antiphon, ‘The Lord has risen from the tomb’, and let them lay the linen upon the altar.

This is a dramatic replaying of the crucial moment in the Easter story, bringing it to life through the voices and bodies of the monks. Although presumably the primary audience for this liturgical play was the monastic community itself, it may also have been witnessed by lay people. That appears to be the implication of a miracle-story told by Eadmer, describing something which he saw take place as the ritual was being performed in Canterbury Cathedral in c.1066:

There is quite a lot more at her post which is linked above and recommended highly.

We have often spoken about Jesus the leader, and his unflinching dedication to the death to his mission. On Easter, this mission is revealed. It finally becomes obvious that His mission (at this time, anyway) is not of the Earth and it’s princelings. It is instead a Kingdom of souls.

that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.

And so we come to the crux of the matter. The triumph over original sin and death itself. For if you believe in the Christ and his message you will have eternal life. This is what sets Christianity apart, the doctrine of grace. For if you truly repent of your sins, and attempt to live properly, you will be saved. Not by your works, especially not by your wars and killing on behalf of your faith, valid and just though they may be, but by your faith and your faith alone. For you serve the King of Kings.

And as we know, the Christ is still leading the mission to save the souls of all God‘s children. It is up to us to follow the greatest leader in history or not as we choose. We would do well to remember that our God is a fearsome God but, he is also a just God. We shall be judged entirely on our merits as earthly things fall away from us. But our God is also a merciful God. So be of good cheer for the Father never burdens his people with burdens they cannot, with his help, bear.

As we celebrate the first sunrise after the defeat of darkness, Hail the King Triumphant for this is the day of His victory.

Chrysostom’s homilies invite us to note the humility with which St Paul refers to himself: he neither disguises his former sinfulness, not rejoices in his own strength – every thing is for and by Christ. He is not forgetful of his sins, but he knows they are forgiven him, and he wants to be an example to all sinners that there is none, no not one, not even the greatest is who beyond the redeeming love of Christ. It was, St Augustine says, solely by the Grace of the Lord Jesus Christ that Paul, like all of us, was saved from the sins in which he languished; whilst the soul can injure itself, it cannot provide the medicine needed to heal itself. Just as, if we would heal the self-indulgences which harm the body, we must heed the advice of the doctor, so too, with the soul, must we heed the advice of Christ the healer. If we acquire the grace of faith, then we are just by that faith, and the just man lives thereby.

Chrysologus notes that that Paul does not exhort us by the might and power of God, but by his great mercy – for that alone saves us. But if men will not admit their sin and will not repent of it – if they persist in it and glory in their own righteousness, then they do so to their ultimate destruction, as Paul might have done had he not responded to God’s grace.

St Cyril of Jerusalem marvelled at the way in which it was the former persecutor, Paul, who contributed so many epistles to the Canon. It was not that the other Apostles did not have anything to say, but it was the case that no one could accuse Paul of always having followed Jesus. He is a perfect example of the prodigal son brought home.

St Athanasius points out St Paul’s method in passing on the true teaching. That which the Apostles received they passed on without change so that the doctrine of the mysteries (the sacraments) and Christ would remain correct. The Divine Word, the Son of God, wants us to follow their teaching – only from that source do we get ‘faithful words, worthy of acceptance’.

St Augustine reminds us that there was one sole reason the Word became flesh – that was to eliminate the disease of sin. Every single person has fallen short of the will of God, and there is nothing for us but damnation; justice would be to damn us all. But here we are liberated by God’s redeeming love – we are ‘vessels of mercy’, freed not by our merits but by the love of Christ.

St Isaac the Syrian reminds us that St Paul says he is the greatest of sinners even though he has spent years proclaiming the Gospel in hard conditions and through much suffering. He knew that he must run the race to the end, and he hoped for the crown eternal at the end.

St Augustine comments that if we are to attain that vision by which we see God as he is, our hearts must be cleansed.

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Regular readers of this blog will be familiar with Bosco, who has been here from the start, telling us all that Jesus will save us all if we just ask. This has always struck me as both laudable and strange. Laudable in so far as he is motivated by the desire to ‘save’ us all, and strange because by his own confession, he did not ask Jesus for help, he just (if I recall aright) received a new spirit. But then if his new spirit has told him that Catholics (or ‘cathols’ in Bosco-speak) are not saved, then one can see why he is not asking why God does not treat each of us as he treated Bosco. He has just made a long comment to which I have replied in part, but on which, because it contains matter of wider interest, I want to essay a broader commentary.

He begins by doing something he occasionally does, but which often gets lost in the general rant sometimes – that is by saying something nice about Catholics:

I spent 7 weeks listening to Immaculate Heart Radio 93 KHJ AM. Ive heard testimonies of changed lives and what have you. I think that’s great. They profess a want and love for Jesus. They repeat some passages of scripture and say that its what they do. Sounds great, and for the most part, it is.

But we know there is going to be a ‘but’, and here it comes:

Then Bosco comes along and calls them idolaters and other terrible names. Where does this Bosco clown get off calling gods people idolaters? Us cathols profess faith in Christ and do all sorts of good works. You know what? Unsaved is unsaved. I got born again and I was in the choir of my church. The reverend was a family friend and I knew him and his family all my life. Dinners and BBQs, birthdays. After meeting Jesus, I took him into his office and asked him if he knew Jesus personally. He said he didn’t. Then I said to him…how can you talk about him when you don’t know him? I left it at that and I don’t think I ever attended another service there. Why would I? I don’t need anybody to tell me about Jesus. I know him and he shows himself to me

In not needing anyone to tell him about Jesus, Bosco stands in a place many modern people seem to stand, but it is far from clear that it is the only way to encounter the Lord. We read in Acts 8:26-40 about one of the earliest Gentile converts, an Ethiopian Eunuch who is reading Isaiah is asked by St Phillip if he understands what he is reading? We are told the it was the Holy Spirit who inspired Phillip to ask. Phillip did not ‘do a Bosco’. He did not tell the Eunuch to ask Jesus to open the door to him. The Eunuch asked how he could understand what he was reading without a teacher? Phillip still did not say ‘ask Jesus to come into your heart, he stands at the door.’ Instead he told the Eunuch the Good News, and the Eunuch asked to be baptised. That is one way of coming to the Lord, and one many of us have followed. Of course, no one denies that there are other ways, such as the one Bosco describes, but that is not the point: the point is there are many ways, and it is a relatively late phenomenon for people to decide that they, unlike the Eunuch, need no help to understand what it is they are reading in the Bible. It was for that very reason that the Church was wary of people reading the Bible on their own.

We are told that the sheep of Jesus’ fold know their master’s voice, but Bosco takes this a stage further and often tells us that he knows who and who is not saved by what they say. This again, is profoundly unscriptural, as nowhere does the Bible tell us that the ‘saved’ will know each other. God alone knows who is saved, and if we feel able to judge as he judges, we have gone wrong because we have arrogated to ourselves something that is God’s alone. The danger here is clear, we end up relying on our own judgment and attributing what we feel and say to God. If someone points out another reading, or that Christians have not believed this traditionally, that can be dismissed by saying such people are not ‘saved’. That not a single Apostle behaved in such a manner seems to give no pause for thought to Bosco or to others who feel the same way.

We can quarry the Scriptures for the meaning we think they ought to have and act as unlike the Eunuch as possible and proclaim we need no help. As one who does, and who finds the help of many St Phillips of great assistance, I cannot attain such exalted heights. I know whatever I see now I see as through a glass darkly, and it is through faith that I believe I shall one day see him face to face. God brings us to him in the way he considers best, and I consider myself ill-equipped to tell him there is only one way he can do that. As the theme of today’s sermon was humility, I am glad to think I learned something from it.

The announcement that the Pope has instituted a commission of inquiry into whether the Church should have women deacons raises, again, a question we have aired here before (Jessica’s last piece garnering a record 295 comments which generated as much heat as light). That there were women in the early Church who bore the title ‘deacon’ is not contested; what is contested is the role of these women. They seem to have prepared women converts for baptism. Why was this necessary? In the early Church people were baptised by full immersion – and it was necessary that women should be taken through that process by women. But this whole business is, of course, as Tina Beattie admitted (at 39 minutes here) this morning, an opportunity to discuss (yet again) the issue of the ordaining of women as priests. That the arguments for the latter are discussed purely in terms of secular notions of equality, suggests that the theological arguments in Catholic terms do not exist. Those who listen to the ‘BBC Sunday’ programme to which I linked, will be able to savour Professor Beattie in full cultural appropriation mode telling us what it is African women want – a line of argument curiously old-fashioned now, which perhaps tells us something about where that sort of old-fashioned Catholic liberalism has become stuck. We might, perhaps, let African women speak for themselves, they do not need white people to ‘rescue’ them or to speak on their behalf. By contrast, Fr Alexander Lucie-Smith rests securely in the teaching of the Church and the faith that it is guided by God through the Holy Spirit.

The whole Ressourcement argument – that is that we go back to the early Church to see how things were done then and recover early practice – is an essentially Protestant trope. It assumes too much and forgets too much. It assumes we can know with precise accuracy the practice of the early Church, when, in practice, we can recover some things about what it did in some areas; so, yes, there were female deacons, but no, we cannot be sure what they did. What we can be sure of is that in patriarchal societies they did not do the sort of things that modern feminists would have wanted them to have done. So the best that could be hoped for here would be to construct your own Catholic history, in which you say there were women deacons but they should not do what they did back then because we are now post-patriarchal. That is simply to to admit that you knew what conclusion you wanted before you began; it would be refreshingly honest were this simply to be admitted. What does it forget? It forgets that the Church is an organic body which grows. The oak was once an acorn, but it cannot become an acorn again, it had grown beyond that stage.

Now, that last argument need, of course, not work in favour of the traditional position which the Church has taken, although there is strong evidence that St John Paul II was speaking authoritatively when he ruled out women’s ordination. It might well be that the Church is developing to a stage where its age-old teaching on women’s ordination is falling away, but if this is so at the moment, it requires us to believe that the Spirit is speaking in the language of modern secular feminism rather than in the terms He has usually employed. Pope Francis is certainly not of the opinion that the Spirit is speaking in favour of female ordination, having said that ‘”The church has spoken and says no … That door is closed” – to the evident disappointment of the more liberal elements in the media. The Church does not, he holds, as all his predecessors have held, possess the authority to ordain women. The Canon Law Society of America has issued a report showing that the diaconate is a clerical office:

Distinct from lay people in the church by divine institution are the sacred ministers, whom canon law calls clerics (c. 207). One becomes a cleric when one is ordained deacon (c. 266). Only clerics can obtain offices the exercise of which requires the power of orders or the power of ecclesiastical governance (c. 274). Deacons thus are clerics by virtue of their ordination and this makes them capable of exercising sacred office and sacred power. All clerics must be incardinated in a diocese or personal prelature or in some religious institute (c. 266). By ordination to the diaconate one becomes incardinated in the entity for which one is ordained (c. 266), and a cleric becomes entitled to suitable remuneration (c. 281).

In 2002, the International Theological Commission concluded a five-year study of the question of women deacons, initiated at the request of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, and after more than 40,000 words, concluded that: 1) deaconesses in the early Church were not participating in some form of holy orders, 2) nor were they even equivalent to deacons. But, of course, many of those pushing for deaconesses today are doing so for the sole purpose of having leverage for the ordination of women to the priesthood.”

It may be that Pope Francis’ Commission will find some hitherto unknown ‘third way’, but it won’t find it in the sources, or in the tradition of the Church. In the meantime, the best advice is that offered by Fr Lucie Smith – trust in the Holy Spirit who guides God’s Church. If it really is the wish of God that His Church has women deacons and women priests, it will happen regardless of the fears of any of us, and if it not, it won’t, regardless of the hopes of any of us.

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We are all familiar with John 10:1-18, in which Jesus offers what was, for the Pharisees, a radical reappraisal of the leadership of the people of God. Who has the right to include and exclude people from that community? It is not the Pharisees – though that was what they believed – it was Jesus. The chapter comes after the heated debates in chapters 7 and 8 about his identity, and immediately after the narrative in chapter 9 about the man born blind. Jesus restored his sight – on the sabbath, and thus vexed the Pharisees. All they manage to do is to drive the cured man from the synagogue – something symbolic of what had already happened to the early Christians by the time John wrote his Gospel. That chapter ended with the man coming to Jesus and worshipping him. In chapter 11 we will read about the raising of Lazarus and then the Passion narrative. Read in this context, we see that the Shepherd lays down his life for his sheep, does so of his own volition, and has the power from God to take it up again; for the post-resurrection church there is a powerful charge in this story which would not have been there when the event happened; as so often, it was only read in the light of the resurrection that full knowledge came with the coming of the Holy Spirit.

Moses and David both received their calls from God when they were minding sheep, and we see from Ezekiel 34 how God regards those kings of Israel who have failed in their duty as shepherds, and how he will punish them. If we contrast what Jesus says in John 10 about the Good Shepherd, we come to understand what Jesus is saying the Peter when he tells him thrice ‘feed my sheep’ – the job of Peter and the Apostles is to be the sort of Good Shepherd Jesus talks about – not the bad shepherd Ezekiel desctibes. Pastor is the Latin word for shepherd, and just as bishops and priests are called to be shepherds, so are we called as lay people to care for each other, and if we can, to offer care for, say the elderly or the refugees or the homeless. As Christians we are charged with loving God and our neighbour as ourself.

The ‘I am’ sayings are found only in John’s Gospel (John 6:35, 8:10, 10:9, 11:25, 14:6; 15:1) and echo what we find in Exodus 3:14 – And God said to Moses, “I AM WHO I AM.” And He said, “Thus you shall say to the children of Israel, ‘I AM has sent me to you.’ For his hearers this would have been a staggering claim, as it is for those who do not yet acknowledge him as Lord – that this man should forgive sins, that this man should say the Sabbath was made for man, that this man should say “I am” – for yes, as he tells the Jews, ‘before Abraham was, I am’. Those who claim Jesus did not say he was God, are failing to hear his words. We are saved, not by the Law, but by faith in Christ Jesus, who is, alone, the way, the truth and the light. He is the Good Shepherd and will lead us by still waters.

The Apostles have gone back to their old method of earning a living (Augustine, Gregory the Great). Jesus reveals himself to them, but not immediately as he does not want to frighten them (Chrysostom). The symbolism of their not catching any fish is noted by all the Patristic commentators, as is the fact that Jesus addresses them as children – which is the ideal mindset for discipleship (Clement). The Fathers also note that when the follow the word of the Lord, this changes and they have great success – the fish multiplied, even as Christian multiply where the word is preached (Augustine). It is the more contemplative John who first recognises Jesus, but Peter, the more fervent, who first comes to him (Chrysostom). It is, naturally, Peter who plunges headlong into the water in search of the pearl of great price (Ephrem). Jesus eats fish with them to show, again, that he is no phantasm (Jerome). The fish he serves them is the first fruits of his catch (Cyril).

There are any number of symbolic interpretations of the number of fish – 153. Augustine sees it as a symbol for the fulness of the grace of all those who partake of the Spirit, as Peter brings the catch for the fulness of the Gentiles (100) and the elect of Israel (50) for the glory of the Trinity (3) (Augustine). Or some see it as pertaining to the end of the world, using an arithmetical triangle that utilizes the prime number 17. The unbroken nets symbolise the unified church unbroken by schism. Christ came in from the sea, which is the world, tossed about, onto the solid shore which is the Church (Gregory). He then commits the Church to Peter, since he is the one who brings the catch safely to shore where there is true rest. (Gregory).

The disciples are in awe of him because he no longer shields his divine power from them (Chrysostom). Just like the meal they consumed, Christ is the broiled fish who suffered and is consumed; he is the bread that came down from heaven (Augustine). The seven disciples present for this meal signify the future eschatological banquet when all things will be brought to perfection (Gregory). John speaks of this as the third time, which is a reference to the manifestations, and not the number of days. These appearances make us look forward even more to our own resurrection (Chrysostom).

Jesus deals gently with Peter – he neither brings up his denials, neither does he reproach him for his failures (Chrysostom). Peter’s threefold denial is now replaced by a threefold confession (Jerome) which effaces his offence (Ambrose) and restores him. He is restored by the Good Shepherd and then called, along with those ministers who follow him, to feed his lambs (Augustine). This is how we show the lobe Christ was asking for from Peter – by serving our neighbour and tending each other (Chrysostom).

Peter is reminded, as all pastors are reminded, that these are not their sheep, they belong to Jesus, and they should remember their fall so they practice mercy to others (Augustine). The Fathers all note that Peter is shaken and made more cautious by the questioning. They also note the nature of the commission. To feed Christ’s sheep is to feed the faith of those who believe in him by exercising proper pastoral care (Bede). The threefold denial and threefold confession mirrors the name of the Trinity, used thrice in baptism. Our Lord’s questioning and Peter’s confession of love ends in the call for a selfless love that focuses on God and neighbour and not oneself (Augustine). Peter is called to serve even unto death – and so must all pastors if that is necessary to defend the sheep (Gregory).

Peter is now willing to suffer for Jesus in his older years in a way he was not when he was young (Chrysostom). The Fathers all reflect the tradition received in the Church of Peter’s martyrdom in Rome, and his crucifixion, upside down, by Nero. Thus it is that Peter will fulfil his promise that he would die for the Lord. Now the hour is coming for them all when, tried by events, they will give all they have for the Lord.

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Shut doors and darkened minds open our reading (Peter Chrysologus), and how often are we in that state? But the Lord does not delay in comforting his followers. Even though they have barred the doors and are frightened, he comes through these barriers to them and enters their hearts. His appearance gives us (Augustine) a foretaste of what our resurrected bodies will be like. The same body that entered the world through the closed door of the Virgin’s womb, now enters the locked room – as he will enter the locked chamber of our heart (Gregory the Great).

Christ stands among them as true God (Gregory of Nyssa) and with death’s power broken for ever by his rising from the dead (Cyril of Alexandria). We see his peace breathed into them (Maximus the Confessor), and that peace is ever a sign of his presence with us. That it is his body he shows by infallible signs of the marks made on it (Irenaeus), although, as we see from the difficulty some had recognising him, there is something about the glorified body which is different (Jerome). The wounds that heal us also heal unbelieving hearts, and we see here he is both divine and human (Leo the Great).

Jesus brings comfort to those who were sorrowing, and he commissions them to go and preach his message of repentance and love – even though they, too, must expect persecution (Peter Chysologus, Gregory the Great). He prepares them to receive even more of the Spirit. He give them the Spirit more than once after his resurrection, and the Spirit will descend upon them again at Pentecost when they manifest its power (Gregory of Nyssa, Augustine). This was he second breathing of the Spirit, the first, in Genesis had been stifled by sin, but this second breathing would not be stifled (St Cyril).

The Spirit is the breath of God (Cyril of Jerusalem) and is the Son’t to give (Athanasius). All the authority of the Apostles is vested in them and their successors by Christ, and their unity and that of the church is traced back to the one Lord (Cyprian).

Forgiveness is given by the Spirit through all of Christ;s Apostle who received his authority to do so (Theodore of Mopsuestia). They can forgive only what God forgives (Origen). They are given great strength and power, but with this comes huge responsibility (Cyril, Chysostom, Gregory the Great).

Thomas’s doubting is because he was not there, and is for our benefit (Bede, Gregory the Great). Though he was absent he still received the benefit of the Spirit. The Fathers agree that Thomas provides the Evangelist with the chance to answer the questions many who heard the story of the Resurrection would ask – how could they know it was not a vision, but a reality? He came among them on the eighth day – a practice the Church continues as it receives him then in the Eucharist (Cyril of Jerusalem). He shows to all that this is real body, with the marks of the crucifixion and torture upon it (Chrysostom, Theodoret). The touching of the wounds proves beyond doubt it is the resurrected Christ (Gregory of Nyssa). So we, like Thomas, who were not there, can stop doubting and believe (Gregory of Nazianzus). Jesus leads Thomas to the perfect confession of faith (Athanasius) ‘My Lord and my God’. The overwhelming consensus among the Fathers is that whilst he saw Christ’s flesh, Thomas also confessed his divinity.

We see throughout Christ’s pateince and love – our faith rests on that and on more than the eye can see (Cyril, Leo).

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Today’s Gospel begins our Holy Week reflections. We see Christ as the people wish to see him – as a king, as a deliverer – and as long as he seems to meet their expectations, they cry Hosanna. Even his own disciples see him through the lenses of their own desires – so, despite being told that one of them is going to betray the Lord, they find time to argue over which of them will be reckoned the greatest. This provides Jesus with a last chance to tell them what he has already told them, that the greatest among them is the humblest, that his kingdom is not like that of this world: but neither the crowds nor the disciples can see him as he is. As Paul tells us in Philippians, he has emptied himself, he has assumed the form of a man, and will submit to death – even death on a Cross. But despite being told by him, the disciples to not yet understand.

We see this exemplified in Peter who, as ever, leads from the front – and without too much in the way of deep thinking. He, he declares will stand with Jesus, even unto death. So, despite being told that Stan is going to ‘sift’ him, and the others, Peter places his faith in his own courage; but the Lord has prayed for him; he sees Peter will fail, but foresees also that he will be restored. At this final moment before the ‘reign of darkness’ begins. Jesus asks the Father that were it possible, the cup should pass him by. We see here the truth of the Incarnation, for like all men, Jesus feared pain and death, he was, St Cyril of Alexandria reminds us, truly man; but being obedient where Adam was not, he submitted to the will of God: He takes upon Himself willingly the sins of the world. His own time of trial met, Jesus now waits for the reign of darkness to begin.

The betrayal by Judas is the first of a whole series of events from which none of those involved, save Jesus, emerges with honour. Judas betrays his Master, the Apostles resort to swords, Peter betrays his Lord, the members of the Sanhedrin betray their oaths to behave honourably, Pilate, who knows Jesus has done nothing to deserve death, nonetheless gives in the the demands of the Jews and the mob, Herod and Pilate allow the prisoner to be tortured and humiliated. Three men alone come out of the sorry tale of the Crucifixion with any honour: one is Simon the Cyrenean, who bears the Cross; one is Dismas, the ‘good thief’, the Centurion,: a stranger, a thief and a Gentile – outcasts – those whom He had come to save respond better than those who had walked with Him.

But this is a catalogue of male failure. The women – not named in Luke – are there – they follow him, they mourn for him, they bring myrrh to anoint his dead body. It is Mark, the ‘interpreter of Peter’, according to Papias, who gives us the information that Mary of Magdala was there, along with Mary the mother of James the younger, and Salome; to these John adds Mary, the mother of Jesus, and identifies the other Mary as the wife of Clopas, whom some scholars have thought to be the sister of Mary; Salome may also have been a sister of Mary. However one identifies these women, it is a close family group, and they are faithful unto death. Where the bold words of the man fail and, like them, vanish in the face of the horror which overwhelms the group of Jesus’ followers, the women closest to him remain close to him. It is fitting that it will one of them who will be the first person to witness the Resurrected Lord.

There are, in the Gospel accounts, so many signs of uncomfortable truths which could not be denied, that this alone would testify to their truth. He came to the world and the world know him not – even his Apostles left (except perhaps John) – but the women were faithful unto death – and beyond. May we be gifted with their perseverance and faith in the dark times.

At the beginning of the liturgical year I offered some comments on Mark’s Gospel as a source for patristic commentaries – mainly to the effect that there were not a great many of them. But that did not mean that the early Church did not value the Gospel, indeed it received it as the best extant record of what St Peter thought and, indeed, as effectively his memoir. As Eusebius of Caesarea (c.262-c.339) – who had access to the best library in Palestine and the traditions recorded therein, wrote:

Mark writes thus, and Peter through him bears witness about himself. For the whole of Mark’s Gospel is said to be the record of Peter’s teaching. Surely, then, men who refused (to record) what seemed to them to spread their good fame, and handed down in writing slanders against themselves to unforgetting ages, and accusations of sins, which no one in after years would ever have known of unless he had heard it from their own voice, by thus placarding themselves, may justly be considered to have been void of all egoism and false speaking, and to have given plain and clear proof of their truth-loving disposition. And as for such people who think they invented and lied, and try to slander them as deceivers, ought they not to become a laughing-stock, being convicted as friends of envy and malice, and foes of truth itself, who take men that have exhibited in their own words good proof of their integrity, and their really straightforward and sincere character, and suggest that they are rascals and clever sophists, who invent what never took place, and ascribe gratuitously to their own Master what He never did?

He concluded, and this was the consensus of the Fathers, that Mark was ‘a written monument of the doctrine which had been [by Peter] orally communicated to them.’ We know that from the earliest days it was read at the Divine Liturgy. We see this tradition at Rome, in Antioch, in Alexandria and Constantinople, and they seem, as far as we can reconstruct them, to be independent of each other – that is to say that everywhere it was known that Mark was Peter’s interpreter and what he wrote was Peter’s, not his own. As Athanasius the Apostolic put it: ‘Mark, the Gospel writer … uses the same voice [as Peter did in his confession of Christ as Messiah], speaking in harmony with the Blessed Peter’ [Sermon on the Nativity of Christ, 28]

Mark the disciple and interpreter of Peter wrote a short gospel at the request of the brethren at Rome embodying what he had heard Peter tell. When Peter had heard this, he approved it and published it to thechurches to be read by his authority as Clemens in the sixth book of his Hypotyposes and Papias, bishop of Hierapolis, record. Peter also mentions this Mark in his first epistle, figuratively indicating Rome under the name of BabylonShe who is in Babylon elect together with you salutes you and so does Mark my son. So, taking the gospel which he himself composed, he went to Egypt and first preaching Christ at Alexandria he formed a church so admirable in doctrine and continence of living that he constrained all followers of Christto his example. Philo most learned of the Jews seeing the first church at Alexandria still Jewish in a degree, wrote a book on their manner of life as something creditable to his nation telling how, as Luke says, the believers had all things in common at Jerusalem, so he recorded that he saw was done at Alexandria, under the learned Mark. He died in the eighth year of Nero and was buried at Alexandria, Annianus succeeding him.

Soon we shall bid farewell to Mark’s Gospel as the subject of the Sunday patristic commentaries, but, for all the occasional frustrations at the slim pickings it offers from that point of view, it has been a privilege to follow it through the year and to walk in the footsteps of St Peter himself.

Like this:

As we have only a few weeks left now of Liturgical Year B and I am coming to the end of the commentaries on St Mark, I am preparing a piece to commemorate that, but in so doing, I have had occasion to re-read Eusebius of Ceasarea’s The Proofs of the Gospel, which dates from around A.D. 314 (with thanks to the indefatigable Roger Pearse), and was much struck by the comments he has to make on that Gospel.

Eusebius, still writing in a world where it was dangerous to be a Christian, engages with critics of the Gospel, and points out that it is implausible to think that the Apostles and earliest disciples all conspired not only lie about Jesus, but to maintain the very same lie (the shameful crucifixion, the resurrection, the ascension). This is especially true, he argues, given the number of embarrassing (to Christians) things Mark records about the ignorance and weakness of the disciples. No one, he argues, would put such things in their sacred book unless they were true. That being so, we have to assume that Jesus taught his disciples the value of the truth so well that they included even things which reflected badly on them. That being so, it is absurd, he thinks, to argue that the disciples would have lied about the miracles of Jesus or the words he spoke.

Eusebius points out that had the disciples omitted all the embarrassing things, and ironed out what some saw as inconsistencies between the Gospel accounts, then by his own time, no one would have known that had happened, and the life of the apologist would have been much easier. But that did not happen, and it did not happen because the Gospel writers were men bound to tell the truth as it had been revealed to them, and they did so, regardless of what men thought.

Written as it was seventeen hundred years ago, this still seems to me one of the best pieces of apologetics on the subject. I can think of no other sacred text where the authors present themselves in such a poor light, or where they so obviously leave themselves open to being contradicted by their own words.

We might add to these considerations one which seems to me overwhelming. On Good Friday we see a defeated and firightened bunch of men slink away to lick their wounds. Only the young John is there with the women at the foot of the Cross. Yet, a few days later this same demoralised crew is up and out there and proclaiming what must have seemed arrant nonsense – that the crucified Jesus had risen. It is not simply that the Roman were unable to produce the body (although we know from the Gospels that they claimed it had been stolen away), it is the actions of the disciples themselves. Men who had robbed a tomb and were hiding the rotting body of their dead Master would not have had the courage or nerve to go out and risk, and accept, martyrdom for that. No, something happened that third day after the crucifixion, and it changed their lives, as it changes our lives. He is Risen!

"I do not love the bright sword for its sharpness, nor the arrow for its swiftness, nor the warrior for his glory. I love only that which they defend." J.R.R. Tolkien <br>“I come not from Heaven, but from Essex.” William Morris